


feelings are fatal

by deadsea



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day, that's all pretty much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 05:29:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19100662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadsea/pseuds/deadsea
Summary: in which simon struggles to approach ceremonial gift-giving and expression of feelings.





	feelings are fatal

In the past week, Simon thinks he’s made up for all the time he spent at school not thinking. It’s February 13th and he’s utterly stumped.

“Don’t even think about it, Snow,” Baz had nearly hissed when he broached the topic of celebrating Valentine’s Day. “It’s a sorry excuse for a holiday — an excuse for stupid, helpless sods to waste their money on overpriced chocolate and fancy restaurants.”

“What if I want an excuse to go to dinner with you?” Simon said helplessly.

“We’ll have dinner here, like we always do,” Baz said. He had turned away to scoop Simon’s used socks off the living room floor, but his voice sounded soft. Simon didn’t know what to do.

 

“What do you and Micah do for Valentine’s Day?” Simon asks Penny.

She glances up from where she’s been poring over a book of some sort, propped precariously atop a kitchen stool.

“I send him flowers the day before. Today, I guess. He should be getting them soon…” She picks up her cell phone, distracted, dark eyebrows furrowed.

“The day before?” Simon says, his voice strained. Should he be getting a head start?

“Yeah,” she says offhandedly. “Cheaper that way. Flower prices go way up on Valentine’s Day, obviously. Everyone trying to get their easy brownie points, last-minute. Maybe flowers sound cliché, but at least it shows I care, you know?”

“Yeah,” Simon says. He’s practically sweating. At least it shows I care — would Baz think that he didn’t care if he turned up with nothing? Of course not — Baz was the one who absolutely insisted on not celebrating Valentine’s Day whatsoever. But Simon knows better than anyone that underneath that cool, spotless exterior there’s some messy part of him that craves careful attention, from Simon, at least.

“Penny?” He tries again.

“Yeah?” she says. She’s smiling at her phone. Simon misses Baz; he can’t come over tonight, some big assignment that’s due at the end of the week.

“Do you think Baz means it when he says he doesn’t wanna do anything for Valentine’s Day?”

Penny hums like she’s biding time while her attention turns to Simon, and then she sets down her phone and looks him in the eyes. “Simon, does Baz seem like the Valentine’s Day type to you?”

“Um. No?”

Penny sighs. “He’s your boyfriend. Do whatever you want. I’m just saying, he once didn’t speak to you for twenty-four hours after you suggested couples’ Halloween costumes. He’s not really one for saccharine, and Valentine’s Day is as saccharine as it gets.”

“But —” Simon stutters as he attempts to verbalize what he’s thinking. Use your words, Simon, Baz would say. “Like you said, it’s — it’s just about showing you care. Moreso than the holiday.”

“He knows you care, Simon,” Penny says. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Sometimes, Simon is afraid Baz doesn’t know. He knows that Baz isn’t one for grand gestures or sweep-you-off-your-feet romance, or cheesy cards or expensive dates or any of that. But he still worries that they don’t do enough special stuff. Like, Simon can’t even cook. Baz comes to his house and cooks for the both of them, or else Simon heats frozen food. Or steals Penny’s leftovers. Baz cleans up after him sometimes, too. It’s not Simon’s fault his boyfriend is a clean freak — at least, that’s how he justifies it to himself. But he worries that Baz is going to get sick of him, or wonder what good Simon does for him, anyway. Merlin knows Baz does plenty of good for Simon.

 

The next day, Baz texts Simon to say that he can’t come over, again. The same stupid assignment. Simon can’t take it anymore. On his way to the supermarket this morning, he passed more than enough smiling men and women cradling flower bouquets to set him on edge. It’s not just that he feels guilty — that’s not even primarily it.

He feels like he’s bursting when he grabs his heavy coat and his keys and sprints out the front door around 7pm. He’s starving — he finally ran out of frozen meals — but for once, he hardly notices.

He nearly buys the first thing he sees at the flower shop — a sickening pink-red-purple explosion of tulips and irises — but stops himself before he can carry through with the blunder, and goes for something that’s at least tasteful: a single white rose. He goes to the same supermarket he visited earlier today and buys a family-sized bag of salt-and-vinegar crisps.

Simon brings Penny’s car to a screeching halt in front of Baz’s flat. His knuckles are clasped so tightly around the rose that they’re nearly the same color now. He hopes so much that Baz likes it — no, just hopes that Baz understands. Understands what he's getting at, what he's trying to express, because Simon is certainly no good with words.

When Baz opens the door and sees Simon, as flustered as can be, white rose, crisps, and all, he looks amused. Simon thought he might be mad, so this is good, he supposes.

"What brings you here today, Snow?" Baz says. He's smirking. He's so cool, and Simon is such a mess.

"Okay, I know you said — I know you didn't wanna celebrate Valentine's Day, but this isn't a celebration, okay?"

Baz is shaking his head, that smirk morphing into something else, something that gives. "Simon."

"I just felt like — I just, I just wanted to get you something because I want you to know that I care, even if you think it's stupid." Baz won't stop looking at him like that. Like that, like another thing Simon can't put into words. Simon's face is burning. "Baz, I really, really — "

"Simon," Baz says again, and he's closer to his face this time, much closer. And Simon feels all the more flustered, yet more relaxed at the same time. Because this is Baz, and he's not angry at all. In fact, his palm is cradling Simon's cheek, and then they're kissing, and the bag of crisps falls out of Simon's arms and onto the porch and they hardly notice.

"So this is what too much thinking does to you, Snow," Baz says a minute later. His hand is in Simon's hair, but he slowly trails it down his neck, and then keeps going. Simon can hardly stand it. "You're an absolute madman."

"I'm mad about you," Simon huffs. "I can't figure it out. You say you don't wanna do anything for Valentine's Day, but you seem to be enjoying my surprise visit."

"Simon Snow, you bloody tosser. You just showed up on my porch blabbering and blushing like a ravishingly handsome lunatic, talking about how much you care about me and expected me to, what? Slam the door in your face?"

Simon laughs a little, flooded with immense relief. He tips his head against Baz's shoulder, letting the hand with the white rose fall and dangle at his side. This entire scenario has taken a lot out of him, and now he just feels bare, exposed. "I love you, even though you're mean to me," he mumbles. 

"I love you too, you absolute nightmare."  He's not his arms around Simon now, and Simon feels him smiling hard into his hair. For once, Simon imagines he's doing this whole boyfriend thing right. "Now, let's go inside."


End file.
